Burn The Past to Ashes
by ihadtoputitsomewhere
Summary: Derek needs someone...anyone. No, not anyone. He needs Stiles.


Things were different after the fire. I mean, obviously things were different. My entire family with a few exceptions became merely ashes. They were less than ashes, they were…nothing.

I still hear them sometimes. When I'm alone, I can hear them. Sometimes they're whispers. Sometimes they're screams. I hear them when I sleep. I see them when I close my eyes. I feel them when I stand alone in the ruins of what was once our home. They're everywhere, and yet they're nowhere. They're nothing, and yet they are still everything.

When Cora came back, so did the nightmares. Of course, I was more than overjoyed to see her and to know she was alive, but seeing her alive was a constant reminder of the rest of our family who weren't. That's part of the reason, I guess, that I made Isaac leave. He couldn't know about what was happening. He needed someone strong, and I couldn't be that person.

Same with Scott and the rest of the pack. I kept my distance because if I got too close, they would see the chinks in my armor. They would see the weakness underneath.

But I was laying in my bed and it was 2:33 in the morning and I wasn't asleep. Tonight was particularly bad. They were back, the voices. And they were screaming at me. I could hear my brothers, my sisters, my mother. All of them. Screaming at me to save them, to help them, to just kill them so it would stop. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. It was too late. And now they're dead and it's my fault.

They say it gets easier as time goes on. They lied. The hurt doesn't go away, you just get used to it. You make room for it. There was pain. A dull endless pain in my gut that wouldn't go away even when I knelt on the stingingly frozen tile of the bathroom, dry-heaving.

So I called Stiles. I called him because despite everything, he knows death. He knows loss. He knows pain.

"Hello?" he answered. I could tell I hadn't woken him up.

"Stiles." I murmured into the phone.

"Derek? What are you—what's going on?"

"Stiles, I need you to—" someone screamed inside my head, so loud it made me cringe and groan into the phone. "You have to get here. Please. I don't…I don't know what to do."

"Okay, okay. I'll leave now. Is everything alright? Are you hurt?"

"Please, just…come. I'll explain everything, I will, but—" another scream, this one louder than the last. It shook my entire body and I cried out into the phone.

"Whoa, okay buddy just hold tight. I'll be there in less than ten minutes…"

He was saying something, I'm sure, but the voices were too loud and I couldn't hear anything else.

"-rek? Derek, you still there?" Stiles spoke loudly into the phone

"Here." I breathed. "Hurry. It's so loud. Please…"

"I'm coming, just hold on okay? Derek, hold on."

He hung up. I was alone with the voices in my head. So I did what I could to make it stop. I put on some music and turned the volume up all the way. I turned up the TV as loud as it could go. But no matter how loud everything else was, the screams were always louder.

I sat down in the space between my bed and the wall and brought my knees up to my chest. I buried my head down and squeezed my eyes closed and waited. I waited. And waited. And waited until Stiles finally came bursting through the door.

"Derek!" he called out. "Where are you?"

I wanted to call back, to say "in here," but I couldn't. So I waited some more until he ran into my bedroom and saw me in the corner squeezing myself into a pathetic little ball on the floor.

"Oh my g—okay. Okay. Okay." He murmured to himself as he ran over to the stereo. He turned the music off, and I guess he had already found the TV because that was off too. It was quiet. But with the silence came the screaming. I flinched as I heard my mother scream my name. I lifted my hands as if I was bracing for a punch that would never come. Suddenly Stiles was kneeling down in front of me and was gripping my wrists in his long fingers.

"Stiles…" I whispered, struggling to escape his grasp. "No, no, no I can't—too late. I'm too late. But I have t—I have to…"

"Derek, hey, look at me man. What's going on? Tell me what's happening."

"They're screaming at me. All of them, they're all…screaming. Stiles, it's so loud. It's too loud. I feel like my head is going to explode." My voice broke. "Please…please just, make it stop."

I was cut off by my brother screaming my name and telling me to do something, but I couldn't do anything. It was so loud and I flinched and let out a whimper that didn't even sound like me.

"Okay, okay, just…look at me. Focus on me. I want you to close your eyes." Stiles stammered, taking my shoulders in his grip.

"No, no, no I don't want to do that. It gets worse…"

"Derek, do you trust me?"

I looked up at him. His eyes were shining with concern and ambition. I did. I trusted him. "Yes." I breathed.

"Okay, so close your eyes, and count to five. I-I know it sounds stupid, but you gotta trust me on this. Count with me, Derek."

I closed my eyes. Darkness flooded in and I felt more alone than I had in weeks. "One." I whispered.

Stiles took my hand in his. "Two." He said when he realized I couldn't. "Keep going."

"Th—three. Four…"

"One more."

"Five. Five." I opened my eyes and looked into his. "Five." I repeated.

Stiles looked at me without speaking until he couldn't help himself. "What do you hear?" he asked.

I froze, expecting a scream to pierce the sweet silence. But nothing happened. "Nothing." I said in disbelief. "I-I don't hear anything."

Stiles smiled, pleased with himself.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"Fear," he started, "is…really elaborate and confusing and terrible. But sometimes the only way to beat it is to let it take you. So you let it take over, but only for five seconds. Then you open your eyes, and you stare into the eyes of fear until it blinks. Yeah, it sucks, but sometimes it's the only way out."

I exhaled, letting out a long sigh of relief. Stiles shifted his body so that he now sat beside me against the wall. Despite every signal in my body telling me not to, I leaned into his warmth and let him wrap his long arms around me.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Stiles asked, gently rubbing his thumb across my shoulder.

"No." I muttered. "No, just you."

"Is it always this bad?"

"Some days are better. Less screaming."

Stiles nodded. "I, uh…I hear my mom sometimes. The last thing she said to me replays over and over in my head. Other times it's my dad, telling me that it was my fault. I know it wasn't my fault, I do. But it, uh, it still hurts, you know?"

I sniffed and wiped tears that I hadn't even realized were falling. "It is my fault. The fire. It's because of me."

"No, Derek…" Stiles squeezed my shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. It was Kate. It was Kate, not you. A-And I don't know what I can say or do to make you believe me, but _it wasn't you." _He slowed down at the end, enunciating the last three words. "Derek please believe me. Stop beating yourself up for something you didn't do. Stop hurting yourself. Stop torturing yourself. Please, Derek." There was a twinge of desperation in his voice, one you could only hear if you really listened.

I wanted to forgive myself to…let it all go. But I couldn't. I didn't know how.

"How?" I whispered, barely audible.

"You have to say it." Stiles answered. "Out loud, you have to…tell yourself that it's okay, that you forgive yourself. You have to say it until you believe it."

"No, no, I can't—"

"Yes, you can."

I shook my head. Tears fell onto my sleeve.

"Derek…you can do this."

I took a deep breath and began counting. "One…two…three…four…five." I opened my eyes and looked up a Stiles. He nodded, his eyes full of understanding and hope.

"It's okay. I forgive you." I said softly.

"Good. Louder." Stiles encouraged.

"It's okay. I forgive you." I repeated a bit louder, my voice shaking.

"Again."

"It's okay." I said in the loudest voice I could muster. "I forgive you."

"Good. You're doing great. Keep going."

Tears began to stream down my face and my bottom lip quivered microscopically. But I still repeated the mantra. "It's okay. I forgive you. I-I forgive you. I forgive you."

Suddenly a ringing sound exploded in my head. I clamped my hands over my ears and clenched my teeth. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. And all I heard was silence. Well, that, and Stiles' heavy breathing. I looked up at him to find that he was wearing an expression that was 100% concern. He twitched one eyebrow, as if to ask "are you okay?" and so I nodded in response. He heaved a sigh of relief and bowed his head.

I don't know how, but somehow I knew that it was over. That everything was okay. That the voices had been silenced once and for all. I closed my eyes and listened hard for the slightest hint of a whisper but nothing came. I smiled slightly, then more, and then broke into laughter. I laughed because I was finally free. The chains that held me down for so many years were finally broken and I was _free._ And it felt amazing.

"You okay buddy?" Stiles asked. I had almost forgotten he was there to be completely honest. I nodded, still grinning. I looked up and met his gaze.

"Thank you."

"Hey, don't even worry about it—"

"No, really, thank you. I don't say that very often to very many people so I need you to hear me. Thank you, Stiles."

Stiles smiled his dorky, crooked smile. "You're welcome Sourwolf." He looked around and smiled even wider when his eyes landed on the X-Box I had from when Isaac lived with me. I never played, but I never got rid of it either. "I bet I could kick your werewolf ass." He smirked.

"Oh I don't doubt it. You're on, Stilinski."


End file.
